


Thumbtack

by Anonymous6285



Category: The Beatles (Band)
Genre: Angst, Blood, Crying, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-18
Updated: 2020-08-18
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:40:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25972276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anonymous6285/pseuds/Anonymous6285
Summary: George comes to Brian in the middle of the night in need of some help.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 28





	Thumbtack

**Author's Note:**

> CW: this contains self-harm, so read at your own risk. Stay safe <3

If there was one thing that Brian hated more than anything else, it was the knocking he’d get on his hotel room door while he was trying to have himself some peace and quiet. Usually, it was George Martin about something rather important, but it still made his skin crawl.

On one particular night, it became even worse. Because it was nearly three in the morning, and it most definitely one of the four Beatles from down the hall.

He got up out of bed and opened the door to find a certain guitarist with his hands clasped together in front of his stomach. “George?” he said, annoyed.

“H-hey, Eppy.”

The manager was in awe, tilting his head. “Love, it’s the middle of the night… what’s going on?”

“I need your help with something.” His voice was shaky, and Brian saw how his hands tensed. As he was glancing down at them, he noticed a spot of red on the man’s shirt.

“Geo, what’s that?” He went to move the arms, but George kept them where they were.

“I-I don’t want you to be m-mad at me…” Tears started to roll down his cheek, and Brian’s eyes went wide, now very much worried. He tugged the arms away from George’s stomach and saw even more blood.

“Holy shit, what…?” 

George kept his shirt down as Brian led him inside. “I’m so sorry!” Brian didn’t say anything, only sat him down on the toilet and gently lifted the shirt off of what appeared to be three separate poke wounds.

“When was this? What happened?” The other man didn’t say anything, and Brian got a bit of toilet paper and started to dab at them. When he got to the third one, which was a bit lower on George’s stomach, he sighed. “Could you stand up for me? And maybe pull your trousers down just a bit?”

George did as he was told, and the manager tossed the bloodied toilet paper in the trash can. 

“I need to find something to clean these with,” he said to himself, starting to dig through the cabinet, hoping the hotel would have something. “What happened, then?” he asked again.

“There was a thumbtack…” George said as if that explained everything, and Brian shook his head.

“Alright. So how did said thumbtack get into your stomach three times?” It sounded like such a ridiculous sentence, but the younger man was so upset over it.

“I just… need some help, okay?” George replied defensively. “I didn’t come to you to talk.”

Brian rolled his eyes. “So you come to me at half two in the morning with thumbtack stabs and not expect me to question that?” No response. “Alright.” He pulled something out of the cabinet along with a pack of bandages. “Let’s get these patched up, and then we’ll talk.”

He pulled a rag off of the rack next to him and soaked it in whatever was in that bottle George saw before swiping it across his stomach. It immediately started to burn, and Brian grabbed onto his shoulders to steady him. 

“You’re okay. It’ll only last a second.” He looked back at the man’s stomach, and as he paid more attention to detail, he saw that there were a few more marks that decorated the pale skin, and the dots started to connect in his brain. “Wait… love? Did you do this?”

George stilled, putting his arms back in front of his stomach. “It’s not… it’s not what you think. I promise.”

“Geo…” he muttered apologetically, starting to put bandages on the little wounds. “Is there a reason…?”

“I don’t know. I just saw the tack, and I couldn’t help it. It just felt so… It felt like I was in control of something. It was nice.” More tears left his eyes, and Brian saw how distraught he was, feeling his own tears coming on.

“God, okay. So you’ve done this before, then?” He ran his fingers over the other scars. “Why?”

“Eppy… I, yeah, I have. But it’s not because of anything… I mean, I don’t know why I do it. There’s no real reason. It just makes me feel good.” Brian opened his mouth shakily to talk. “I know. It’s not safe. Pattie usually helps me clean up, but… she’s back in London.”

“Ah.” He didn’t know what else to say to the younger man, and seeing him like this was only making the older man tremble. He didn’t want George to have to go through this. 

“I’m so sorry I woke you up. I didn’t know what to do.”

“Oh, love, it’s quite alright. As long as you’re okay.” Brian’s eyes were so red, he could hardly see George past the tears anymore.

“I’m alright. Th-thanks for helping me out. I just didn’t think I would… well, I haven’t in a while. I’m sorry.”

“Hey, stop apologising. You haven’t done anything wrong, okay? You did the right thing coming to me.” He hummed in response. “I think… maybe we should talk a bit more about it, though.”

George shook his head. “I don’t want to. Please don’t make me. I’m tired.”

“O-okay. How about you get back to sleep, and we can talk later, yeah?” He wiped away his tears and sniffed. “I know you really don’t want to, but I’m worried, and I want to get you some help.”

“I don’t need help.”

“George, now, correct me if I’m wrong, but from what I understand, you couldn’t resist the urge to stab yourself in the middle of the night, and then you had to come and wake me up because you didn’t know how to take care of it yourself.”

George looked down at the ground. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I’m not blaming you for this, love. It’s not your fault. But you still need some help, yeah?”

“I-I suppose so…”

“We can talk about it later. Are you ready to go back to sleep, now?” He shrugged, and his manager saw that something else was bugging him. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t want to go back to my room. The tack’s still… on the counter. And I’m worried about doing it again. It was so hard to stop.”

“Okay, how about you just stay here tonight. I can go grab your things if you want.” The guitarist nodded. “Alright. I’ll be right back then.”

“Okay. Thanks so much for all of this. You didn’t have to be so nice about it.”

“You mean a lot to me, Geo. I couldn’t have done anything different.”


End file.
